Untitled, page 16
“The people best equipped to survive,” she answered, “will survive. I mean the only people who even in these grim past years have had the courage to live their independent lives - the Travellers. You know something of them, I believe.”
“I do.”
She sat down. Slowly I sank beside her. She laid a hand on my knee, where it remained limply as if it had passed on a burden too great for it.
“We’re not really assassins, Knowle,” she said. “We’re midwives. A new way of living has got to come, and the sooner the old one goes the better.”
As she handed me the rifle, I could hear the sound below us of many people assembling in the square. Inside the temple, untroubled by the terrors of the world, the voices of the faithful rose and fell. Ignoring the rumbling of my empty stomach, I cradled the rifle under one arm and crawled towards the nearest window slit.
Office, Untitled
